Mistakes Were Made - FanFiction Edition
by Zies
Summary: The crippling global economy continues to affect large cities well into the year 2016: employment is scarce, wages low, and people are willing to work minimum wage in low-skilled jobs. At the same time the eSports and competitive gaming industry is ever-growing, and the competition is as fierce as ever. This Edition modified to adhere to rules, but missing some vital elements.
1. 1 - Civilization

**1  
Civilization**

"Corporation, noun: An ingenious device for obtaining individual profit without individual responsibility." Ambrose Bierce

Casual conversation, fused with the soft aroma of food, drifted throughout the restaurant. Echoes of an enduring and lively civilization filled the floor. Conversations and carefree laughter clashed and intertwined midair: the voices of the mothers and fathers pleased with and at ease with life, and the giggling of children too young to have any worries. A calm and familiar song played for all the customers of the restaurant, a song neither too boring to lull the people asleep nor too raunchy that may fall under the category of offensive. Within the confines of the orange-lit room, nothing in life could be better.

Customers lined up to place their orders. For some it was simple: a burger, some fries, and a soda. For others, not quite so: four, no, six, no, eight burgers, two medium fries, four small sodas. Damn, a dollar short. Make that just two small fries, then. And then they would be irritated anytime they were politely asked to repeat their confusing order. Then there were those with special needs: no onions, please—and a please was rare—hold the tomatoes or no lettuce were common as well.

Taking the orders were those wishing they could be elsewhere, all wishing they could have it better. The high schooler, the least experienced of the bunch, was always assigned with the cleaning tasks so that he would never be in the position to spit into the burgers or pocket a few dollars in the collective blind spot of the cameras. The college students, all in need of four years' work experience before being eligible for an entry level position, dealt with the loud, hungry crowd. The college graduates were here only because nowhere else would pay. They were the most skilled of the unskilled: they knew at which precise temperatures and at which exact angle to handle the meat. All employed to do menial tasks for meager earnings, and at the mercy of the dollar, they were locked in place for the foreseeable future.

But they deserved their earnings because they were unskilled, and this was the best way to get started. And they were employed by good, kind people, with worthy, noble intentions. They ought to be grateful for this opportunity and for this income, it was the same job and pay their grandparents had. Besides, business was booming this quarter, with profits on the rise and labor aplenty. Never worry about the lack of labor: should we be in need of any, simply hire the next schmuck to enter the doors. You want a job? You need a job? Come one, come all, anyone can do this work, welcome aboard. It is important to always have a crew expendable.

No…necessary.  
No…crucial.  
No…_vital_.  
It is vital to always have a crew expendable.

All those struggling to make it by need to figure things out on their own: their struggles are their own fault, no one else's. Don't come crying to us for a raise. We're in the business of serving food and making profits, not providing living wages. Don't be so selfish. Think of the company's wellbeing. Don't like it? Door's right there. Next!

The men and women behind the counter scurry about, performing their mind-numbing jobs to the laziest of their ability. The clock was the only thing keeping them sane, and each time they peered in its direction, they would be absolutely certain that each second had passed by twice as quickly as the one prior. Only three hours left until there's only one hour left before the half-hour left before my designated five-minute break, then just another hour before the last hour of the work day. All the while orders flooded in. The faces of the cashiers were bombarded with dialects and accents and teenagers and coins and profanity. The food was prepared and served and taken without so much as a thank you muttered in return.

But it was payday and they would finally reap the minimal fruits of their labor. The workers received a blue card with all of their earnings in it. Using the card would result in a fee. A fee each time they would check their remaining balance, each time they would withdraw funds, a fee for transferring funds from the card to any other account. But it was worthwhile because it saved the company paperwork and signatures and time and money and thus, in the long run, brought in more profit. It was a good move, an intelligent business decision, made by the intelligent, wealthy, educated men running the company who are never to be doubted.

Those who were done for the day walked out the doors of the restaurant and saw their evening counterparts entering to complete the work yet to be done. And evermore the cycle continued.

Exiting the doors onto the packed and busy streets, the workers dispersed and became part of the crowd. Upon steel pillars and platforms, metallic trains came to screeching halts. On the roads, vehicles of all sizes and of all purposes sped about in all directions as pedestrians flowed around them like water. A unifying song, a song without rhythm or melody, emanated from the drivers who honked their horns every chance they got. Every few blocks the city's anthem of emergency sirens reverberated across the streets and most people stopped in place and looked both ways before crossing at the red light.

People on the sidewalks were of all ages and creeds and dreams, but the things they most valued were not theirs. All cars on the street, and all that education they had earned, and all the homes in which they lived, still had to be paid off. All the vehicles parked at every street, all the local businesses who advertised their services on billboards and public transportation, all was debt. And best not let anything default else our education go out of business, else our public transportation no longer drive in profits, else our hospitals bleed negative income.

And of course the banks would be closing at precisely the same time the standard work day came to a close. The hours of operation were somehow always set to inconvenience those who worked steady jobs for questionable pay.

And of course, whenever it just so happened to be rush hour, the homeless would just so happen to be camped out in front of the restaurants and the bus stops and the subway stations and the jewelry stores and the bakeries and the markets.

Of course.

They would shake their cups so that their coins would ring, and please, they would plead, and God bless you, would say the more patriotic ones, and evermore until no one watched. Meanwhile the world walked on without even the slightest of a damn. But they only ignored the homeless because every penny donated meant another penny shy for food or water or rent, and another penny closer to end up like them.

As the employed made their way home, they would bear witness to the state of their crumbling neighborhoods. Countless streets housed entire apartment buildings boarded off with blue plywood and overgrown in foliage. Homes were colored of Rooms for Rent, and shaded of Price Reduced, and tinged of For Sale By Owner.

The evicted and derelict homes became canvases for graffiti artists, and had become plots of land solely for the purpose of garbage disposal. Three, four, five homes per block.

Outside the homes, parked cars read 4/S with ten digit numbers posted underneath. Six, seven, eight cars per block.

They closed the door behind themselves, the cold air faded away, and finally they were home, safe, and all the troubles of the world seemed to dissipate.


	2. 2 - NeoTokyo

**2**  
**NeoTokyo**

"What is happiness? The feeling that power increases—that resistance is overcome." Friedrich Nietzsche

He walked up the flight of stairs, entered his room and dropped onto his bed. As he lay there, the grease that had accumulated on his hands and face and clothes were slipping onto his sheets. The red numbers on his desk changed from 5:39 to 5:52 to 6:18. For every number that changed, the room grew darker and darker, and the sounds outside softer and softer. At least it was finally Friday.

He took off his heavy, stained uniform and worked his way downstairs. He heard recorded laughter coming from the television, and then saw two blue-lit bodies sitting on the couch staring at the screen, empty bottles scattered across the floor, a sweating bottle tightly clasped in their hands. They took no note as he entered the bathroom.

The warm water dropped down on him, tapping against his skull, cleansing away the grime that had gathered that day, and slowly the filth trickled down. He kept the water on until it aged his fingertips.

He dried himself off and stood in the tub thinking many thoughts and pondering many ideas until he spontaneously sprang back into active consciousness.

Leaving the bathroom he headed towards the kitchen in the dark, making as little noise as possible. The refrigerator hummed loudly as he got nearer. Yellow light poured onto the walls behind him, but of course there was nothing there: two bottles of beer, a gallon of milk half empty, and a stick of butter half gone. Working his way back toward the stairs, a small creature ran into him.

He's home! the thing would yell, passing by at such impeccable timing. He would push it against the wall just in time so its cries would be ignored. Go pick up some food! one parent would say. And do something productive today instead of just sitting in front of your computer all night long! would say the other. And bring those last two beers over before you go! Their empty gazes were glued to the television screen as they went bottoms up.

Of course.  
Of course, of course, of course!

The cool air slapped his face as he walked down the street. He took out a cigarette and held it between his lips for five, six, seven street tiles. His hand brought up the lighter and lit the cigarette. His lungs came to life and became jubilant, reunited with an old companion. He walked on, hands in pockets, sucking on the sweet, indulging stick, walking past the Chinese restaurant a few tiles before turning back.

What up? a familiar face in the dark would ask, holding out a fist.  
A shrug, their fists bumped.  
Yeah, life sucks on my end too, as they smoked outside the restaurant.  
Sesame chicken! the short Chinese man behind the counter would yell. A'ight, I'll catch ya later, bro, he got his food and disappeared into the night.

Ha'f a chicken wih pok fied wice an' chicken wih broccoli an' wie wice! He inhaled deeply and threw away what remained. Fo'teen fity! the tiny man would say. An' wememba…smoking ba' fo' you! Nomo' smoking! same as he had told the friend.

He hesitated at the doorway of his home, placed the bag inside and walked back to the nearest bodega. He withdrew all of the funds on the card that he got from work that day, paying twelve dollars for fees in the process in addition to the ATM's $2.75 fee. Returning home, he checked his pockets to recall where he had left his cash and where he had left the now empty card.

What took you? We're starving! And where are those beers!?

He took out one of the styrofoam containers and dropped the bag on the table. Back in his room, the only light he could see were the red numbers on the desk: 7:43. He flicked the light switch and saw his room exactly as he had left it that morning: his garbage and papers exactly where they were, his boxes and books left untouched, his bed unmade, now with grease. Posters of his favorite games and musicians and animes and teams were mounted onto his walls. If only there was more wall than posters.

He sat down in his chair, put on his headset, and turned on his computer. He took out the blue card and laid it above his mouse. His monitors brightened, he typed his password, and his background came into focus. He opened up his browser and clicked a bookmark to Pandora, immediately his preferred music began to play.

He clicked another bookmark, instantly the page loaded. Twitch's featured stream was a speed runner. A blue man ran towards the right shooting peas out of his arm, he jumped and climbed ladders, a quick menu, the blue man turned gray and he would shoot out a white boomerang. A timer would show whether or not this was a new record and by how many seconds or milliseconds better or worse it was compared to the world record and the player's best record.

Below the featured content was a list of other games being streamed, all sorted by live viewers. First on the list was his game of choice: _League of Legends_.

No Sinik, no Inertia, no Crescendo, no Equinox, no Eumoda – players who consistently drew in tens of thousands of viewers. The current top streamer had around seven thousand viewers. Espada, Team Ampersand's mid laner, was a very strong player. Well known for his humorous and risky antics in game, Espada was a favored streamer for many excitable people.

He dashed toward a half-health Orianna with Spirit Rush, he dropped the Ignite, landed the Charm, dashed further forward to dodge the Command: Attack, Fox-Fires locked onto the low health target, he tossed out the orb, and dashed back toward safety, tanking two, three, four turret shots in the process. A blind monk emerged from the darkness. He waited for the precise moment to Flash away from the Sonic Wave. A webcam recorded his reactions throughout the course of the game and between his games while rap music played in the background.

"I Ignited her at the beginning because I knew I could get the kill even without starting off with Charm. If I didn't juke the Ult with another dash I would've definitely died, though. At the same time I knew I couldn't tank the turret for too long. If an enemy stays in the lane with that amount of health when she knows my abilities and summoner spells up, the jungler was clearly nearby. If I played that better I could've saved Flash, though. He could have probably dived me and he would have been fine, but didn't know where my jungler was, so he probably didn't want to go too ham."

On discussion forums he could see many topics: statistics for this patch, YouTube clips of stupid or funny or creative things that people have done or have had happen to them, artwork of their favorite characters. The more active topics made their way to the top of the page: rumors of certain teams acquiring new players, rumors of new teams on the horizon, threads dedicated to an amazing play a Korean player just did a few hours ago. Jokes and praise and ridicule and criticism and toxicity from all over the world found its way onto the internet as communities trash talked, argued, and poked fun at everyone.

Since nothing was happening he decided to stream. He began his broadcast and all his social media pages instantaneously announced that he had gone live. In a matter of minutes three hundred viewers were drawn in.

"Hello," he said lazily into his headset's microphone as he waved lazily at his webcam. "I'm eating right now, so I'll just answer questions for a while before I get into a game." Twitch chat filled up with comments and questions and faces typed in by his viewers.

"Chinese food. Chicken with broccoli. The place near here is pretty good I guess, but I mean, I haven't really tasted much of the cooking from a lot of other different Chinese restaurants. I'm sure they're mostly the same." He skimmed past the stupid questions and silly comments until he found something worth answering.

"Mmm, I'm not too sure about all that talk about replacing Dendra. I mean, you have to consider the vastly different playstyles of the teams competing that season and this upcoming season. I think it's extremely stupid to not take teams in general into consideration. Every player has his strengths and weaknesses. You can look at numbers all you want, but ultimately you need the context of how the games played out and how the team played as a unit before criticizing a single player for poor performance or praising another for immaculate performance."

He chewed with a closed mouth and lifted his microphone away as he continued reading questions.

"M'drinking water. Not much of a fan of soda all the time. Maybe once a week I'll drink some soda or something."

"Where do I live? Check the FAQ below."  
"Uh, yes, I do have a fortune cookie… 'Learn Chinese, Spring.' Choon, teean. Choontyan. Help, I can't pronounce. 'It is very possible that you will achieve greatness in your lifetime.' Well, isn't that comforting news?" he asked his viewers as he tossed the paper into the air.

"Am I gay? Really? You assholes. I'm just gonna add that to the FAQ this time around."

"Alright, I'll start playing in a bit, let me get some more water while I log on. I'm gonna play some ads for a minute or so. Thanks to those of you not using Ad-Block, keep being awesome."

He went downstairs careful to place his feet as close to the edges of the steps as possible. Moving as quietly and as unnoticeable as a slithering solid snake, he refilled his cup and took a few sips on the way back. The loud television competed with the loud smacking of lips and the loud chewing of food while blue light bounced off the monitor.

The eyes of the mouths were fixed on the screen, which displayed a pair of lovers kissing under a chestnut tree. The channel would then resume the broadcast: a pundit would be angered about jobs being taken by non-Americans, and talk about an incompetent politician in the East whose country had a poor understanding and execution of democracy. He also spoke of a senator who, earlier that week, had stated that the only way anyone could fail and be poor in this country was if they were lazy and didn't do their fair share of work. Anyone can make it in this country, he had said, and ultimately nothing stood in the way other than sheer determination.

Melting back into the cover of darkness, he made his way upstairs, again taking gentle, precise steps. Back in his room, the younger brother was clicking around with the mouse.

"Get out," he sighed as he pushed the kid out, locking the door, and "Oh hi," as he rested his hands back on his mouse and keyboard.

A tab with the name DeusRex blinked orange in the game's window.

(20:29) DeusRex: yo lets duo  
NeoTokyo: lol, why?  
DeusRex: u and me close  
(20:30) NeoTokyo: Sounds legit, inivite me

"So it looks like Rex wants to chill for a bit. I know you guys like our crazy-stupid teamwork and shenanigans."

(20:32) DeusRex: get on raidcall

"You wanna dick around or play to win, Toke?" a laid back voice asked from his headset.  
"I'm down for whatever, man," he responded holding his left Shift key.  
"A'right then, we dickin' around. Time to make some YouTube worthy plays."

They got into the matchmaking queue and waited for the system to find suitable teammates and opponents of the same or similar skill level. Music poured into his ears as he played a typing game to ensure his fingers remained quick and precise. With only a few mistakes made, he scored 151 words per minute with a typing accuracy of 93.4%. He moved on to another game to test his accuracy and reflexes with his mouse: a rhythm game where he had to keep up with the beat and melody of the music. The more difficult songs were the faster ones he preferred.

A match was found and some familiar names showed up on their team.

amp Toxiform: tokyo ban LB pls  
DeusRex: Let me jungle, I got this shit  
"Try'n leave Lee open."  
Aleor: phyros u mind if I mid? D: i wanna practice ahri  
Royale Phyros: :/  
Royale Phyros: :/  
Royale Phyros: sure go ahead  
amp Toxiform: don't worry ill support u phy  
"I think they heard you, Rex,"  
"The scumbags. They did show Lee and Renekton early…guess I'll go a bit tanky so we can dive the shit out of 'em. Kinda just wanna rush double Sunfires and proxy or push all game."

Teams and champions locked in. They quickly loaded into the game, browsing social media while the slow loaders caught up to 100%.

[00:02] NeoTokyo (Shen) purchased Warding Totem (Trinket)!  
[00:03] DeusRex (Maokai) purchased Warding Totem (Trinket)!  
[00:03] Royale Phyros (Ashe) purchased Warding Totem (Trinket)!  
[00:06] [All] ButTrauma (Renekton): tokyo, prepare urs  
[00:08] [All] NeoTokyo (Shen): lol  
[00:10] [All] NeoTokyo (Shen): I've taped it closed  
[00:13] [All] ButTrauma (Renekton): you think  
[00:13] Aleor (Ahri) purchased Warding Totem (Trinket)!  
[00:15] [All] ButTrauma (Renekton): i can't  
[00:15] [All] ButTrauma (Renekton): break through tape?  
[00:16] amp Toxiform (Janna) purchased Scrying Orb (Trinket)!  
[00:16] amp Toxiform (Janna) purchased Stealth Ward!

"You should gank him early. Teach him who needs the tape,"

[00:18] [All] NeoTokyo (Shen): it's duct tape, super durable  
[00:19] [All] Aleor (Ahri): lol  
[00:19] [All] ButTrauma (Renekton): lol

"That's Daze's smurf, right? It's like you guys are made for each otha. You should change the answer to your new FAQ question, you two flirt like you're married."

"You should be marriage counselor—who helps online couples get the most out of cybering."

"Ehh…" a ping dropped in the fog of war at the bottom right quadrant of the minimap, "Come to their Blue. Might need taunt."

[01:20] amp Toxiform (Janna): q or e?  
[01:24] DeusRex (Maokai): Q if they show up  
[01:25] DeusRex (Maokai): otherwise e

"I'm going to bail if they show up with more than two people. You're gonna get us killed just for Blue. I has a feel."

"Nah, man, they're either going our Blue or their Red. Sim won't consider the Tree invade."

"Wanna bet?"

"…nah, nevermind."

[01:47] amp Toxiform (Janna): doesn'tl ook like their comgin

"I'm headin' top,"

[02:03] [All] ButTrauma (Renekton): where u hiding, tokyeo?

"Let me get four before I go up,"  
"Lee's probably here. Also he has no wards."  
"Ah, I see 'im. Comin', comin', come to tri—tri, tri, tri. Let me block the next Q."  
"He has no Ignite."

[06:26] [All] SimJim (Lee Sin): y u so fat tree? : |

"You goin' back?"  
"Yeah, gonna wait a few seconds for a pink."

[07:03] [All] DeusRex (Maokai): sorry  
[07:05] [All] DeusRex (Maokai): i drank my milk  
[07:06] [All] DeusRex (Maokai): and ate my vegtables  
[07:07] [All] DeusRex (Maokai): growing up  
[07:53] [All] RefleX (Zyra): But I heard milk makes you shrink  
[07:58] [All] SimJim (Lee Sin): I'm pretty sure that's just you  
[08:21] [All] ButTrauma (Renekton): lmao  
[08:23] amp Toxiform (Janna) purchased Sight Ward!  
[08:24] [All] ButTrauma (Renekton): and i thought iwas a troll  
[08:30] [All] RefleX (Zyra): qq

"Haven't seen top in a while. Not sure if he's in our jungle or what."

[10:32] NeoTokyo (Shen) signals to be careful  
[10:32] DeusRex (Maokai) signals to be careful

"None of my camps were cleared. I swear I'm going to walk into them doing Dragon. Or…not. The fuck? Where are they?"

[11:12] ButTrauma has drawn first blood!  
[11:14] ButTrauma has slain amp Toxiform for a double kill!  
[11:18] ButTrauma has slain DeusRex for a triple kill!  
[11:18] ButTrauma is on a killing spree!

"Well, top's almost dead."

[11:20] amp Toxiform (Janna): wtf  
[11:22] amp Toxiform (Janna): is renek doing down here  
[11:52] NeoTokyo (Shen): We pinged.  
[12:23] DeusRex (Maokai): drag ~18:00  
[13:02] ButTrauma is on a rampage!  
[13:03] amp Toxiform (Janna): zzz  
[13:05] [All] ButTrauma (Renekton): lol  
[13:06] [All] ButTrauma (Renekton): no hawkshot?  
[13:10] [All] Royale Phyros (Ashe): i need dmg : (  
[13:32] Royale Phyros (Ashe): welp I'm sure this game's over  
[13:35] Royale Phyros (Ashe): sunfires all around  
[14:57] amp Toxiform (Janna): should just wait at blue  
[14:59] amp Toxiform (Janna): with sunfires  
[15:00] amp Toxiform (Janna): and jump them

Full Sunfire Cape teams, they would find, were ineffective against good Syndra players. But many laughs were had and the collective viewers of NeoToyko's stream and DeusRex's stream approved of the laid back game.

"Invite me for another, dude," he told DeusRex. As they waited for the matchmaking system to find suitable players again, he opened up Thunderbird to check his emails, ones sent to his personal address, ones sent to the email for his gaming handle, and the school email he used to talk with old classmates who knew nothing about video games.

A typical list of emails cluttered his Unread folder: sales for computer parts, new books and eBooks added to a particular site's collection, announcements of his favorite streamers going live, and other such automated notifications. He glanced over subject titles and senders before clicking Mark As Read.

One particular email stood out: "Confidential – Team Final Frontier Gaming" sent by a Simon Penn. Final Frontier Gaming was a website he joined some years ago and still frequented from time to time. He shared his knowledge of the game, his thoughts on the competitive scene, and it was where many of his viewers came from.

* * *

Confidential – Team Final Frontier Gaming  
Fri, Oct 7, 2016, 14:00 (7 hours ago)  
**Simon Penn**  
to me

NeoTokyo,

It is with great pleasure that I write this email to you. As you can no doubt tell by the subject, we are finally looking to form a team to compete in the upcoming North American Series and you are one of our priorities.

This is an initial proposition to ask if you are interested in playing for and representing Final Frontier Gaming. As one of our priority players I will share the list of other priority players we are looking to acquire:

Crescendo – Support – Captain  
NeoTokyo – Top  
DeusRex – Jungle  
Marlwolf – Mid  
Zodiac – Marksman

I believe I have made a pretty good job choosing roles, but I will be willing to talk to you guys about moving around if the need arises. On the occasion that Marlwolf is unwilling or unable to swap teams, we will instead opt for WildCat.

Because this is going to be a newly formed team and we will be going into this cold, we have set aside a budget to pay for a player's travel, as well as a salary for at least three months. As you know Riot guarantees a stable salary for teams that qualify into the LCS, so making it there will be tougher than simply being on FFG.

Feel free to reply with any questions you may have or talk to me on Skype (contact information available at FFG's contact page). Please respond with an official answer by the end of next week and we can discuss things in more depth.

Furthermore, please try to keep this under wraps for the time being until we can make an official announcement. Try not to show things off on stream (like the subject title for this email) and try not to talk about or hint towards this on social media. I cannot stress enough how important this is to us.

Thanks, and game on.

Sincerely,  
Simon "ShellShock" Penn  
Founder, Final Frontier Gaming

* * *

"Fuckin' Tokyo! You fucker! Why din't you accept the match?"  
"Shit. Fuck! Did you…uh…d'you get an email from…Shellsh—Shelly?"

"Oh, from Penny? Yeah, I got it. Thought you already saw that shit. So that's why you didn't accept? Anyway, yeah, I'm down for that thing he said."

He scanned the email again, read it over one more time, two more times, three more times, highlighted the email address to make sure there was no sleazy kerning. He navigated to Final Frontier Gaming's contact page to see if they matched. He copied the From field and the email from the contact page, pasted both onto Notepad, and they matched. It was ShellShock.

He took off his headset, placed it on his desk. He reclined all the way back on his chair, leaned his head against his chair and let out a long sigh. His computer quietly hummed at him, had been ever since he turned it on but only now had he noticed.

Twitch chat filled with comments and faces:  
GatJ8: he's gone full retard thanks obaam  
Afhir: think he's ahveing an allergive reaction to rex  
Oafy92: dam hes so srs right now : | : | : |

"Sorry guys, just gimmie a few minutes," he told the headset on the desk.

Reply.  
How soon would the team get together? Is there a gaming house, or are we just doing this online for the time being? Would I have to bring my own machine if there's a gaming house or will computers be provided for us? Are there any existing sponsorships or partnerships between FFG and other companies? When would we first be paid? Myriad questions, myriad typos, myriad twitchy fingers.

He read over his questions two times, three times, four times, looking for typos, looking to see if his grammar and spelling were correct, looking to see if there was anything else he wanted to ask. He hovered over Send ten, eleven, twelve seconds.

Send.

He put his headset back on and held Shift, "Alright, let's go."

"Cool." DeusRex has invited you to a game.

When teammates and opponents were found they accepted the match. And the next one, and the next, and the next, and they played into the wee hours of morning. They shared links of videos they found funny, articles the other may be interested in. They played _Scrolls_, _Binding of Isaac_, _Rouge Legacy_, _Spelunky_, and _Hotline Miami_ between the lengthy queues—they played anything that would keep the mind awake and the fingers active. They celebrated their victories and learned something, anything, from their defeats, and time continued forever onward, 2:13, 3:43, 4:48.

"I don't know about you, dude, but I'm tired as fuck. Thinking of calling it a night."

"It ain't even five yet. Don't be a lil' bitch."

"Fuck that, man, I've got a lot of stuff to consider in the coming week."

"Yeah, I guess. Viewers gonna be pissed at you for not doing SubWars, though."

"Fuck 'em. No! Just kidding, I love you guys. Like my own flesh and blood. We'll just…do one tomorrow or later this week."

"A'ight, you heard him guys. So just check the Twitters and the Facebooks at some point later this week."

"Oh I heard that yawn, don't try to hide it. And you said it wasn't even five."

"Well I might as well get up early tomorrow, as wel—"

"Yeah okay, man, whatever. Anyway, if anyone's tuned into my stream, thanks for watching. Sorry for not doing our weekly SubWars tonight but we'll make it up to you. Maybe I'll be on tomorrow, otherwise check later in the week for fun games and stuff. Bye," he waved and yawned at his webcam.


	3. 3 - Beyond the Sword

**3**  
**Beyond the Sword**

"Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds." Bhagavad Gita

He would open the door to find pages taped on the outside. He would snatch them off before the parent could reach.

Why are you still awake? What are you thinking?! would ask the parent.

He would unfold the pages to find bills, water $294.11, phones $250, electricity $239.17.

When are you going to be a responsible paren—person and pay your own god damn bills?

When are you going to put that degree of yours to use and be a CEO somewhere?

You don't even fucking understand the world anymore, there are no fucking jobs, dad.

Stop making excuses and apply yourself already.

Stop being an irresponsible human being and asking your son to pay your bills for you, mom.

You have no idea what the real world is like, son, you're too young and inexperienced to understand. Don't argue with us, we know best.

The world's changed so fast these past ten years that you have no idea what you're even talking about.

I know enough about being a family, and I know you wouldn't embarrass us by disobeying your parents. It's your duty to help a family member. Think of your younger brother, is this the kind of role model you want to be for him?

He's your responsibility; I didn't choose to have him. How about you think about yourself and your own image and yourself as a role model: you think having parents who can't pay their own bills and would rather pay for cable and a few beers will help him in the future?

Just do what we tell you and grow up already, you're twenty-two for God's sake. It doesn't matter if the world's changed, you're obviously too lazy to get a nice job at a nice office and work with important people who actually make a difference in the world, and actually make money doing it.

Oh, they change the world alright, and they fucking make money alright, while they starve the rest of us out of it. You guys just don't fucking get it. Sooner or later it's gonna bite you in the ass, and by then it'll be too late for you guys to do anything. We don't live in a same world anymore. We've moved on and you just don't want to understand: we live in a digital age.


	4. 4 - DeusRex

**4  
DeusRex**

"And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!' Nothing beside remains." Percy Bysshe Shelley

A roaring crowd held up placards with insignias and messages written with markers. Well into the back of the room, hands waved ecstatically. Fists struck the air as voices chanted in unison "FFG! FFG! FFG!"

Rays of red and blue lights from above surfed around the crowd of people standing on their seats.

"FFG! FFG! FFG!"

Confetti fell from nowhere, camera crews followed reporters onto the stage and camera lights flashed from all directions.

"FFG! FFG! FFG!"

He ignored it all as he embraced the team. NeoTokyo moved closer holding his fist forward.

Bzzt, his pillow rumbled. Bzzt.

He tapped his phone and the alarm stopped. With burning eyes and mucus in his throat, he lifted himself up and strolled towards the bathroom, his hands acting as his eyes for the moment. A cold breeze snuck in through the tiniest space between the walls and window.

"George?" asked a calm voice with a knock. Continuing to brush his teeth, he unlocked and opened the door.

"I'm going now to see Madelyn, are you coming?"

He spit the toothpaste out, looking at her through the mirror, "I'm gonna be goin' later with Geoff'n Erica."

"Okay, any idea what time?"

He pointed at his left wrist with his right hand.

"Uh," she took out her phone, "12:50."

He showed two fingers. Three, and seesawed his hand.

"Okay, I'll let her know. Oh, and I left some eggs and sausages on a plate if you want any. I'm on my way now, though. Tell Geoffrey and Erica I said hi. I love you, George."

"Love you, mom." Breakfast had become cold, but it was still food. He ate with one hand, checked his phone with the other.

(12:52) Erica: puerta! D:

A knock. "Your mom opened the door for me," she said as she hugging him and leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

"Want some?" he asked holding the plate to her.

"Mmm, I think I'll just wait to eat with Geoff," she said inspecting the plate.

"Were you watching us stream yesterday?"

"Mhm," she quickly nodded twice.

"When 'e asked about that email from Shel—well, lemme just show you."

She read from his phone, her eyes slowly opening wide, silently she gasped.

"Ohmygosh!" she burst out with embracing arms.

"Waitwaitwait, nothin's final yet, still not quite on a stable salary, or even in the official League. But I may have to disappear for a bit to dedicate my time to practice with the team and make sure we're actually a quality team. I'm not even sure if I'll be staying in New York for this since Shelly mentioned travel will be paid. I'm assuming there's a gaming house. I also have to let Madelyn know, she'd've been the first person I told, but I'd really rather tell her in person."

"So let's go tell her!"

"Gotta call Tokyo, though, see if he's up,"

The line rang three, four, five times. No answer.

"Let's head over ta his place if he's not picking up. Keep calling him while I get ready."

As they left the apartment she hit the call button again. She kept her phone to her ear as they walked down eight, nine, ten street tiles.

"Oh. Tokyo, ¡_levántate_! We're coming over…No seas _bebé_, it's like one o'clock. Get up…Geoff says hi."

"I bet he did."

They walked down the street, fingers locked together, discussing their week, this person and that video, this game and that episode. The streets were empty and quiet compared to the crowds and honking of the day prior.

At the curb of a major intersection a group of people sat on chairs, with a mountain of books piled on a table. Above them, on streetlights and tree branches, hung pairs of boots and sneakers that had always been there.

Nearby posters read "Prepare To Meet Thy God! Amos 4:12." A man with a megaphone shouted such and such things about a "Jesu' Crito" and a "Dios" and a "Rey." There would be no point in asking her to translate.

Atop a distant building a large billboard read "3 Million!" They walked past abandoned stores and derelict plots of land that had become a home for stray cats and plastic boxes and wooden boxes and smashed CRT monitors and bulky VCRs. This land would not sell, it was far too filthy to clean and turn into profit. Other areas were boarded off with plywood to keep the junk and the strays and the destitute out.

There were more window shoppers tapping at their pockets than there were actual shoppers within the doors.

They continued past broken, littered, and tarnished homes with letters sprayed on them. Cars outside the occupied homes were cars with numbers scribbled on them, cars recently cleaned and washed.

She called again, no answer. They sat on the steps outside, laughing, joking, talking.

"Last I checked, ten minutes wasn't twenty, Geoff."

"Fuck you," their fists met.

The girl hugged him and they quickly kissed each other on the right cheek.

"A'ight, so where we goin'?"

"Don't care, man, up to you."

"_I_ know, let's just get whatever at the deli."

"A'ight."

"So, dude, we gotta play our asses off if we want FFG in the series. Oh, does Erica know?"

"Yap, he showed me the email."

"I think we can duo 'n' play some serious games for a while to see what we can do best before getting together with the rest of the team."

"Puedo ser coach y give you guys pointers cuando hagan tonterías."

"Might be worth a shot. Have you spoken with anyone else from the team since you got the email, George?"

"Nah, but I think I saw Zodiac on while we were in-game. He din't message me or anything. Maybe he was AFK or didn't wanna say anythin' in case it showed up on stream."

"Maybe we should talk with them, like set up a Skype call and set up some practice games. You already have everyone added, right?"

"Yeah, I'm sure we've both played enough games with and against 'em to be on each other's friends list. Ya thinkin' this'll be the actual team, or you think someone'll decline?"

"Uh…I don't know. To be honest, though, I'm not too sure what to think of Crescendo. No one's seen him competing at any competitive LANs and all we know is he's good at winning games with solo queue teams if they listen to his calls. I don't think that'll translate well into competitive play against practiced and coordinated teams with months or years of experience and structure."

"I can kinda see that making an impact in competitive play. What d'you know about Zodiac or WildCat?"

"Zodiac? Uh, well I know he played with a makeshift team at an MLG a while ago. He was playing with some other players we see in queue from time to time like Daze and…Shuriken, before she was picked up by Royale. And well, you know WildCat: king of solo queue with his god damn three accounts in Challenger. Kid's insanely good. If he were to join the team, I'd be extremely surprised since I'd imagine existing teams would be fighting with every penny just to have him on their starting lineup. Anyway, then there's this other dude who goes by the name DeusRex. He's so shit, I don't even think he belongs in Diamond, he's like some high Gold, low Plat, if you ask me."

"I've heard this NeoTokyo guy is pretty bad, too. That nigga ain't anythin' special…at all."

They ordered their sandwiches and ate up further discussing whatever crossed their minds, with their newfound opportunity the focal point of conversations.

"Holy shit, though, can't believe we actually made it to the top. And now this."

"Ha, and to think you fuckin' hated the game when I introduced you to it."

"Well yeah, but it was like a completely different game back then. New patches and content and shit resulted in a game that plays way differently and has some more competitive depth to it."

"It's a'most like you owe me for showin' you the game, now,"

"Mmm, well. Oh, I got it, I found FFG first, so Shellshock knows about you through me. I think we're even."

"By the way, d'you know what happened to…damn, what was her name?…that first grade teacher we had…"

"Oh yeah, hah! Fuckin'…god damn, what _was_ her name. Why in the fuck can't I remember?"

"You got us caught playin' Pokemon and she took our Gameboys."

"Dude, I had like no health on Croconaw, he was my last Pokemon and I somehow beat Whitney. And then she wouldn't give me the badge. I'm pretty sure you would've reacted the same way."

"You remember what she said after?" he asked withholding a snicker.

"Oh yeah. I fuckin' remember. That sonovabitch had the god damn audacity to lecture us, the entire class, that video games were a waste of time and would get us nowhere. 'One day you'll be working in an office' she said, 'and you'll have to fill out paperwork all day and you'll have no time for toys and computers and your Pókemans and your playboys. One day you'll thank me.'"

"_Ella_ no dijo playboys. She didn't, did she, George?"

"She actu'lly did."

"_Ah_, so you remember she said that because a few years later you two found out what playboys _really _were, verdad?..._Hombres_."

"Well, first of all, we remember her exact words because we then set out to prove 'er wrong…so mission accomplished on that front. Second, you may not have heard of it, Erica, but we have this thing called _el internet_, now. Don't need no magazines."

"Oh god, why did I even say anything."

"Yo, George, you still have the Playboy Advance SP search in your history?"

"Nah, I'm not that advanced yet, I can't Google that until I find some good search results for Playboy Color."

"Okay, voy a escuchar my music y ustedes pueden seguir caminando down the street talking about your playboys so everyone _else_ can hear."

"But dude, you haven't heard about the magic of the PlayCube, yet."

–

"Y ella? Mirala, que guapa. Y blancita como tu."

"No, dude. Would _you_ react positively if some random guy walked up to you randomly on the street or bus and complimented you or asked you out? Don't fucking lie, you'd think he was a creep, wouldn't you?"

"Pues, depende how he looks."

"Something tells me you're just saying that because you can't bring yourself to admit it's weird. Besides, you pretty much just said it's all about looks. If you'll talk to him because he looks cute or whatever, doesn't that just mean the only reason he's talking to you is because he thinks you're cute or hot or whatever?"

"Mira, solo estas overcomplicating something that's easy. You'll probably never see her again y ni te va concer if you bump into each other on the street. Just go talk to her."

"Where do you stand on this George?"

"I think I'm stickin' with Geoff on this one. Look at it this way, if I had just randomly asked you out an' you din't know me, you woulda probably looked at me all weird. Yeah like that. But since we went to school together, there's kinda already a reason for me to talk to you, like to ask what the homework was or whatever."

"C'mon, Erica, don't look so sad face…if I go talk to her, then will you be satisfied?"

"I think you should just go find out. Doesn't look like she's gonna say anything for a while. While you go over there I'll poke her cheeks until I make 'er smile. Look, see, he's goin' over ta her. You should be his official wingwoman for talkin'a strangers. Look at 'er, he hasn't said anything and already she's turnin'…ro-ho."

"Roja. Rosada."

"Oh, right. Yeah, that. See look, she's all coy now and she's makin' 'er body smaller. She must feel uncomfortable as fuck right now. The hell, why'd he point at you? Well, look at that, clearly a no. Happy now?"

"Well, ahi te va, Erica."

"Probably ni trataste."

"Well, if that's how you think it went down…Maybe we can try again later, preferably with something on the line. Like a lunch or a few dollars."

"Okay, enough bantering, you two. Let's get inside."

"How about next time you just go talk to some guy and see if he doesn't react the same way? I'm telling you, hardly anyone expects to be bothered when they're staring at their phone or just standing around. I'll buy you lunch if you try it."

"Fine, proxima vez we get the chance."

"Good afternoon. How may I help you?"

"Hi, here to see King, Madelyn."

"…305, left as you get off the elevator."

"Thanks. Kay, I'm goin' up the stairs."

"Why? Si los elevators estan right here."

"Well, if you wanna be trapped close quarters with people here, go right ahead."

"Let me jog up the stairs with you, Rex."

"Wait! Por lo menos hold the door for me!"

"A'ight, left off th'elevators Uh…should be…this…way?"

"What if it turns out she trolled us and the room's actually right?"

"There! _There's_ 305!" she sighed, relieved.

"Well, ladies first," he swayed both arms toward the door.

"Aww, aren't you just the _most_ adorable, George?"

"Maddy!" she exclaimed rushing into the room.

"After you, Geoff."

"¿Cómo estás?" she asked as their hug ended.

"Muy bien. Thanks so much for coming, Erica. Geoff! Haven't seen you in a while, I was glad when I heard you would be coming."

"Yeah I finally had a weekend off from work. M'glad to see you're doing well, dude."

"Heyo, Sis."

"Hey, George. Hah! What the fuck? Flowers?"

"That's not all. Cup your hands."

"Aww, it's so cute. I didn't know they made Metroid plushies."

"They don't. I got it custom made, jus' for you, Sis."

"Thanks, George. He shall be named…Squishy."

"Estos asientos are _really_ comfortable! It's like they want tu cuarto to be a lounge or something."

"So, George, mom told me you and Geoff had something big come up?"

"Hah, god damn it, ma. Yeah, let me pull up the email."

She flicked her thumb upward on the screen and the permanent smirk on her face turned into a wide grin.

"No, nono, this is horrible. This is like the worst thing possible…I won't be able to watch your games from here. I highly doubt anyone could hook up a computer to the big monitor so I can see you in your glorious moments."

"Fuckin' Madelyn! Such a troll. You learnin' from Geoff?"

"Haha! Relax, I saw an opportunity so I took it. I can't believe you're both going to be fighting for a spot in the LCS. I feel like I should ask you both for autographs and strictly start referring to you as NeoTokyo and DeusRex."

"¿Sabes _qué_, Maddy? I think I should get autographs now too…while they're rare. Then tal vez I can make some good dough online when the time is right."

"Sign me up for that, Erica. Once you're in the LCS you should fly us over to Riot to see you guys play in person."

"Soon's you get better. How long the doctors thinkin' you'll have to stay for chemo?"

"Well, they're not exactly _saying_ so I think they can't even determine how long I'll have to be here. They're just trying to be cautious is all."

"Then iremos when they play in Worlds."

"How about we just worry about you gettin' healthy for the time being?"

"That's sweet of you, George, but I'm sure I'll be fine. Right now you've a chance to do something good, something you enjoy doing…and you'll have Geoff with you the whole way. Stop worrying about your little sis for a bit and focus on doing the best you can. Please? For me? Could you forget about my problems? Let me work on getting better, and I'll let you focus on playing your best. Sound like a plan?"

"…well a'right, if you're givin' me permission to clear my mind, I'll do just that. And this nigga right here, he's gonna keep me distracted so I won't go on tilt."

"I'll do my best. I'm probably better at that than I am on Rainbow Roa—god damn red shell!"

His phone rumbled. "Gimmie a minute, I'll be right back."


	5. 5 - Machina

**5  
Machina**

"The real problem is not whether machines think, but whether men do." B.F Skinner

He would walk down long hallways, past other patients who were admitted for numerous reasons. Men and women in their dress shirts, in their white coats, with clipboards and folders in their hands took intentional strides at New York pace. They would look down at their phones, picking, and tapping, and sliding, and typing every second of every minute of every hour of every day.

Of course all financial and monetary regulations for health would have to pass through national politics. Yet those writing and passing legislation were chess players who had no clue their pawns were starving, no clue their knights had no horses, no clue his rooks were asleep on the job, and believed everyone lived happily ever after in their white palace like the king and queen. Of course they would think themselves king, the best piece—what experienced person wouldn't?

He would take the stairs up or down a few levels. He would enter a restroom, he would check under the stalls to see if he was alone. He would wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, until all was clear.

He would turn on the hand dryers, turn on a faucet and ask himself why.

Why.

Why? as warmth trickled down his face.

Why was she so strong?

Why could she handle it all? as he slammed his hands on the counter.

Why could she ignore it more than he could?

Why could she never break from her smile?

Why could she never admit to her pain? as his vision blurred.

Why would she not tell him how he could help?

Why is she okay with the way things are?

Why could she endure? as tears stacked on his nose.

Why could he not see the world through her eyes?

Why could she not see the world through his?

Why was she so much stronger than he was? as he punched an indentation into the tiled wall the shape of an upward-pointing arrow.

He would return to the room checking his phone, joining in on the conversation at hand.

You're bleeding from your left hand, she said this time.

Shit, must've been when the door closed on my hand.

And ever so slightly her smile would fade.


End file.
